


The Green-Eyed Angel

by Caedmon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), Jealousy, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Service Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Weddings, talking is for chumps, to steal tags from one of my favorite people..., we fuck through our feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley purchase new suits and travel to California for Anathema's wedding. It's a lovely affair and love is in the air - but Aziraphale is getting rather tired of these humans making eyes at his husband. When one woman has the temerity to actuallytouchCrowley, Aziraphale finds himself in the clutches of the green-eyed monster... and acts on his jealous impulses.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 536





	The Green-Eyed Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for one of my very favorite people, my twin Lurlur!! Happy Birthday, my darling! I hope you like this!! 
> 
> It was beta'd by Rose_Nebula, who continues to amaze me with her skill. Thank you, wifey!
> 
> For reference, photos of the husbands' suits can be found in the end notes. 
> 
> I am but a dancing, fic-writing monkey, and comments and kudos are the coins in my tin cup. Please consider leaving them! <3 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr, my username is caedmonfaith. Send me prompts, scream at me, whatever! My inbox is open and I don't bite!

Aziraphale fiddled with his light tartan necktie, adjusting it this way and that in the mirror, trying to decide if he liked how he looked. Today was Newt and Anathema’s wedding, and, owing to the formality of the occasion, he and Crowley had made a gentleman’s agreement to procure new suits. Aziraphale rather thought that his usual kit would be perfectly presentable for a wedding, but Crowley had pursed his lips and given him _that look_ , the one he always gave when he was trying a low-grade temptation. 

“Angel,” he’d said, “don’t you think we owe it to Newt and Anathema to look a little better than the norm?”

In retaliation, Aziraphale had nearly pointed out how _kind_ it was for him to want to give Newt and Anathema their best, but didn’t needle his husband. He had a point, and, well, it wouldn’t _hurt_ him to dress a little more formally for a wedding. And he did want to look his best on Crowley’s arm, after all. 

So he’d visited his tailor and had this suit made up, and he had to admit, it was rather nice. It fit a little more narrow than anything he’d worn in several decades, but his tailor assured him that not only was that the current fashion, it served to make him look slimmer. Aziraphale wasn’t a bit opposed to _that_. Although Crowley loved his body - including the places he was soft curves instead of hard planes - and spent a great deal of time worshipping it, Aziraphale was still a little self-conscious. Crowley was absolutely gorgeous by human standards (and any other standards Aziraphale could come up with), and he wanted to look as if he matched, if that made sense. It probably didn’t, Aziraphale sighed to himself. It barely made sense in his own mind. 

Recalibrating his thoughts before they could become maudlin, he turned his attention to the pocket square that matched his tie. He’d attempted to fold it the human way, but it didn’t look exactly right to him. He fiddled with it a little, adjusting it with a slight frown, and the door to the bathroom opened behind him. He didn’t glance up, still fiddling with the pocket square and becoming quite frustrated. 

“Are you ready to go, angel?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale clicked his tongue, his brows furrowing more. “I would be, except this stupid pocket square is… _guh_.”

His words dissolved into an unintelligible sound when he caught sight of his husband over his shoulder in the mirror, and the demon smirked while Aziraphale blinked stupidly. 

“See something you like?”

The angel turned slowly, his jaw slightly lax, to take in the vision that was his husband. He was wearing a black suit, which Aziraphale had expected, but he hadn’t expected it to look like… _this_. It fit him precisely, clinging to Crowley’s slim body and accentuating every line. There was a satin waistcoat overtop a crisp black cotton shirt, and the only color to be found was the dark red tie and perfectly-folded pocket square. His snakeskin shoes gleamed and every strand of his auburn hair was in place, looking perfectly tousled. He leaned against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, the picture of casual coolness, one eyebrow cocked and the grin on his face lopsided. 

Aziraphale knew he’d been asked a question, but couldn’t quite remember what it was. He was entirely too taken with the sight of Crowley looking more gorgeous than he’d ever seen him. With clothes on, that was.

“You alright there, angel?”

“Fine! I’m fine. Just… you look very nice,” he managed. 

Crowley’s eyebrow went a little higher, closer to his artfully unkempt, ginger hair. “Just _nice_?”

Aziraphale tutted. “You know very well you look like temptation incarnate.”

“Good. That’s what I was going for. And as for you…” He gave Aziraphale a long, lascivious look, from his tan shoes all the way to his parted hair. “You look good enough to eat.”

The angel flushed. “Of course you have to say that,” he pooh-poohed.

“I don’t have to say anything. You look stunning, Aziraphale. I’m very, very tempted to drag you over to the bed and fuck you into the mattress.”

Aziraphale’s flush deepened. “You know we can’t, not right now. We have to be at the wedding in thirty minutes.”

“Pity, that. Suppose I’ll have to just satisfy myself with the knowledge of what we’ll be doing when we get back to the hotel tonight. Are you ready to go?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, I’m ready, all except for this horrible pocket square. I can’t seem to get it right. Can you help?”

Crowley’s smirk disappeared, softened into a quiet, indulgent smile, and he stepped over, his attention on the bit of cloth in question. He pulled the square out and folded it expertly, then slid it back into Aziraphale’s pocket with a kiss to the angel’s forehead. “There. All sorted. Ready now?”

“Kiss me properly, and I will be.”

The lopsided grin was back, and Crowley lowered his head to capture Aziraphale’s lips in a sweet kiss. He knew that Crowley wasn’t _trying_ to tempt him, not right at the moment, but Aziraphale was still contemplating suggesting they blow the whole wedding off and stay in, doing their best to break the box springs on the hotel’s bed. He was even more inclined to do that when Crowley slyly breached the seam of his mouth with his tongue. Aziraphale clung to the lapels of Crowley’s jacket, doing his best to maintain his head but becoming more and more lost in his husband’s kiss as seconds dissolved into minutes.

At length, Crowley broke away, softening the loss with a couple of light kisses to Aziraphale’s upturned mouth. 

“I have no idea how I’m going to manage to keep my hands off of you,” he murmured.

Aziraphale grinned. “I hope you don’t.”

“You’re a filthy tease, Aziraphale,” Crowley complained, then pressed one more kiss to his lips. “But I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Good. Now, let’s go see our friends get married.”

“Yes, let’s.”

~*~O~*~

The wedding was lovely, Aziraphale thought. It was being held at a vineyard, and the ceremony itself was taking place on something of a cliff overlooking rows and rows of grapevines as far as the eye could see. The weather was beautiful: clear blue sky dotted with the occasional innocuous, fluffy cloud, and the air was pleasantly warm, but not hot. The bride and groom were standing with each other and an officiant under a gauzy canopy, tastefully bedecked with pale pink and cream-colored roses. It would have been easy to attempt to improve on the natural beauty of the venue, but it seemed Anathema knew better than to try, and the minimalism was lovely.

Anathema herself was radiant. She was a beautiful girl anyway, of course, but her cream-colored, flowing gown and bouquet of cream-and-white roses made for an exceptionally enchanting bride. Newt cleaned up fairly well, too, in his smart tuxedo, but the most lovely part, to Aziraphale’s mind, was the way both their faces _shone_ with joy. It was an expression he was very familiar with: his face shone the same way every time he looked at Crowley. 

Speaking of his husband… as beautiful as the venue and the bride and the wedding itself was, it was nothing compared to the way Crowley looked in his crisp, black suit, sun glinting off his dark glasses and making his auburn hair appear fiery. There was a hint of a smile on his face as he watched the ceremony, and it made Aziraphale smile. He knew that, despite his constant assertions to the contrary, Crowley was deeply romantic and very much enjoyed the idea of humans spending happy lives together. He really was the _worst_ demon, and Aziraphale loved him for it all the more. 

Crowley caught him looking, and the little smile on his face grew into more of a smirk. He winked, making Aziraphale flush, then reached over and casually laid his hand on Aziraphale’s thigh - a small gesture that spoke thousands of words. Warmth bloomed under the place where Crowley’s hand lay, just as it always did at every touch from his beloved, and Aziraphale turned back to the wedding, his heart full of love, slipping his hand into the crook of Crowley’s elbow. 

They sat together like that until the officiant pronounced Newt and Anathema ‘husband and wife’, then the ineffable husbands withdrew their hands from each other to clap politely. The newly-minted Mr. and Mrs. Pulsifer made their way down the aisle towards the reception venue, beaming proudly and flashing all thirty-two teeth, and Aziraphale was sure his smile was nearly as large. Once they had exited, the officiant dismissed the congregation and at once, Crowley was on his feet, his hand extended down to Aziraphale. 

“Come on, angel. All this bloody romance makes me need a drink.”

Aziraphale smiled, knowing better, but took the offered hand and got to his feet, lacing their fingers together. They joined the queue of people leaving the large patio where the ceremony had just ended and slowly meandered back towards the reception hall. Once they made it through the receiving line, they made their way over to the open bar and ordered wine. Crowley groused good-naturedly about the wine being Californian, and Aziraphale could certainly see his point - the French wines they enjoyed together at home were much better - but the Californian wasn’t all that bad. They could certainly make do for one evening. 

They loitered near the bar, refreshing their glasses often and people-watching. Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice the large number of men and women who would look at Crowley, then indulge in a second glance, or even give him a longer, more appraising look. He was terribly proud to be on the arm of the most gorgeous bloke there, but couldn’t help a rather un-angelic surge of possessiveness. It’s not that he wanted to _own_ his husband, really. Crowley was his own man - well, demon - and Aziraphale loved that about him. But he couldn’t help but feel a little territorial when he saw attractive, well-dressed people giving his husband the once-over. 

“Have you seen anyone we know?” Aziraphale asked, giving one such woman a bit of a glare as she walked by. 

“Not really,” Crowley answered lazily. “Not anyone I’d want to speak to, anyway.”

The angel chuckled. “That doesn’t tell me anything. You protest wanting to engage in conversation with everyone, dearest.”

“Not you,” he said lazily, lips curling into a slow smile.

“No,” Aziraphale agreed, smiling up at him. “Not me.”

The demon pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Just so long as you know you’re singular.”

It was exactly the reassurance Aziraphale needed. He was formulating a response - something that encompassed just how much he loved Crowley without being _too_ mushy - but his thoughts were thrown off-track when he saw the tenderness leave Crowley’s face.

“What is it, dear?”

“Madame Tracy and Shadwell,” Crowley said under his breath. “Headed this way.”

Aziraphale squared his shoulders and turned to face their friends with a smile he hoped was winning, nudging Crowley. “Smile, darling,” he muttered, then glanced up to see that his husband was wearing much the same expression he’d worn when Gabriel had declared whose fault the not-pocalypse was. Oh well. It was better than nothing. 

“Madame Tracy,” Aziraphale greeted the woman warmly, taking both her hands and placing little kisses on her cheeks. “You’re looking lovely, my dear. And Sergeant Shadwell! I almost didn’t recognize you in your finery.”

The older woman preened a little, but she really _did_ look nice - certainly, what she’d selected was an improvement over the garish clothes she’d favored prior to the not-pocalypse. Her light hair was perfectly coiffed under a hat that matched her peach dress, and she looked every inch the proper Englishwoman at a country wedding. Sergeant Shadwell was wearing a suit that Aziraphale would have been willing to bet he hadn’t owned before the invitation to this wedding was received, and the angel would have been further willing to bet the witchfinder had likely been henpecked into wearing it. His grey, flyaway hair had been tamed somewhat, and his scruffy beard had been trimmed. He and Madame Tracy made something of an attractive couple.

“Mr. Fell,” Madame Tracy was greeting them effusively. “And Mr. Crowley, too. How lovely to see you.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is rather lovely to see us,” Crowley snarked, and Aziraphale elbowed him lightly. 

“What did you think of the wedding?” Aziraphale asked with a bright smile. “Wasn’t it beautiful?”

He and Madame Tracy dissolved into a discussion about flowers and locations and all the frippery that went along with a wedding, Sergeant Shadwell and Crowley looking bored. After a few minutes, Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand to get his attention and informed him he was going for more wine. The angel let him go with a fond smile, then turned back to the conversation he’d been involved in. Mr. and Mrs. Young and Adam had sought them out, and the adults (excepting Sergeant Shadwell and Mr. Young) were all chatting animatedly. 

It wasn’t long, though, before Aziraphale started to miss Crowley’s presence. Even if the current conversation wasn’t exactly the demon’s cup of tea, just having him near was a comfort - and Crowley never seemed to mind indulging him. He’d been gone long enough to get a glass of wine - in fact, he’d been gone long enough to mash the grapes, if he’d wanted. What was taking so long? 

Aziraphale scanned the room to see if he could find Crowley, and spotted him near the open bar, glass in hand, with a very attractive woman chatting him up. The woman had long, lustrous, chestnut hair that curled gently and caught the low light prettily. Her dress was not exactly skimpy, but it _was_ clinging to every curve and accentuating all her… _ample_ assets. Crowley looked bored, but that didn’t deter the trollop who was trying to chat him up. As Aziraphale watched, she laughed merrily and reached out to lay her hand on Crowley’s chest, fingering his lapel. Crowley glanced down at her hand, clearly bemused, but Aziraphale couldn’t care right then. He was livid, utterly jealous, and his jaw was clenched in anger. 

“Do excuse me,” he managed to grind out with a tight smile to the small gathering of people, then sat his wine glass down and made a beeline for Crowley and the woman. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted again that Crowley still looked bewildered by the woman’s behavior, but Aziraphale wasn’t capable of any rational thought at the moment. He was in the grips of a green-eyed monster, and all he could think of was getting his hands on Crowley.

He schooled his expression into his most bland smile when he reached Crowley and the simpering woman, going up on tiptoes to press a smacking kiss to the demon’s lips. “Hello, dearest.”

“Hello, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, now looking even _more_ confused by the overt, public display of affection. 

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, turning his cold smile on the woman. She was even prettier close up, and Aziraphale wanted to _smite_ her. Both literally and figuratively. 

“I’m Gemma,” she said brightly. “I take it you know Anthony?”

“In every sense of the word - including biblically,” Aziraphale answered silkily, then smirked when Crowley snorted into his wine. 

“Speaking of…” he turned back to his husband. “Can I borrow you for a moment, Crowley? I need to discuss something with you.”

Crowley was checking himself for spilled wine, but nodded. “Yeah, sure. Of course, angel.”

Aziraphale gave Gemma an oily smile. “Do excuse us, won’t you? That’s a dear.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he took Crowley by the hand and walked purposely from the hall, looking for a small room of some sort. Crowley followed behind silently until Aziraphale pushed through a door that said ‘employees only’ and started down the corridor. 

“Angel, what’s going on?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, just dragged him down the hall towards a few doors. He checked each one, his hand still in Crowley’s, until he found a small, empty office. “Aha!” he exclaimed, then pushed the door open and dragged Crowley inside. He shut the door behind them and turned back to the door, performing a little miracle. 

“Angel, what the hell -- _mmph!_ ”

His words were cut off when Aziraphale fairly attacked him, throwing his arms around the demon and slotting his lips against Crowley’s surprised mouth. His husband was only surprised a minute before he returned the kiss enthusiastically, his own hands wandering, sliding down Aziraphale’s sides and gripping his bum. The angel purred and rolled his hips forward, grinding his half-hard cock against Crowley’s - then did it again, just for the sensation, both of them hardening quickly. 

Crowley broke the kiss, panting for air, but Aziraphale didn’t let up his sensual assault. He simply started trailing nipping kisses down the demon’s neck, unbuttoning Crowley’s suit jacket and rubbing his hands down the linen of his shirt, over his sides. He was thrilled to feel the muscles jump under his fingers, and he heard the sound of Crowley pulling off his sunglasses, followed by the slight click of them being dropped on a table. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Crowley started, leaning his head to one side to give Aziraphale more room to kiss and nibble and lick, “but what brought this on?”

“You’re mine,” Aziraphale explained between leaving a love bite on the demon’s neck and capturing his earlobe between his teeth, “and I think you need to be reminded of that.”

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley groaned. 

“You should have known what seeing you in this suit would do to me, dear. You _must_ have known. And yet you wore it anyway.”

Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hips more firmly, grinding his cock against the angel’s. “So what if I did? What’s wrong with tempting you to lust?”

“Oh, there’s absolutely no problem with you tempting _me_ to lust,” Aziraphale explained, hands going to the demon’s belt buckle. “The problem comes when other people are caught in your snare.”

His attention was caught when Crowley released his arse and cupped his face, tipping it up to look at him. “I’m not attempting to snare _anybody_ but you, angel. Not ever.”

Aziraphale diverted his mouth in a heated kiss, parting Crowley’s lips with his tongue and mapping the territory of his mouth, planting his flag of possession in every corner. His hands scrabbled at Crowley’s belt, and then his button, single mindedly seeking to expose his husband’s eager cock. 

The kiss broke, both of them panting for air, and Crowley dove for Aziraphale’s neck, kissing, licking, and nipping, while Aziraphale struggled with the zip that was currently keeping him from touching the hardness he could feel underneath the fabric. 

Finally, the zip gave way, and Aziraphale didn’t hesitate before he shoved the trousers and pants down Crowley’s thighs, enjoying the sound of the buckle hitting the hard floor. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Crowley murmured into the skin of Aziraphale’s neck. 

Aziraphale wrapped his hand around Crowley’s effort - large and thick, the way he liked - and started pumping. 

“I’m going to suck you off, my dear. I’m going to suck your cock until it explodes in my mouth, until you never forget who you belong to.” 

“There’s no danger of - _oh shit, angel_ \- there’s no danger of me forgetting that now.”

Aziraphale pulled back to look at Crowley, his eyes twinkling. “Are you _opposed_ to me doing this?”

Crowley shook his head so hard it was nearly comical. “No, not at all. I welcome you sucking me off anytime.”

He gave a satisfied smile, almost a smirk, and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s slack lips. “Good boy. Now, you know what I like.”

Crowley nodded silently, his eyes dark. “I do.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he agreed.

Aziraphale’s smile grew, and he laid one last kiss to Crowley’s mouth. “I love you, dear.”

“I love you, too.”

He didn’t wait another second, but sank to his knees in front of Crowley, miracling himself a cushion for his knees on the concrete floor. Once he was eye level with Crowley’s proud cock, he took a moment just to look at it while he stroked it, admiring the flushed purple head, the way it filled his hand so nicely, the small bead of precome at the tip. He watched himself masturbating Crowley for a moment, enjoying the way the demon was rested against the desk and his hands were clutching the wood so tightly his knuckles were white. Aziraphale leaned forward to lick the engorged head, catching that bead of fluid, and looked back up at Crowley. Crowley’s eyes were wide, his pupils blown, and his face was the perfect picture of _want_. Aziraphale smiled, then licked him again. 

“Jesus, angel.”

Aziraphale tutted. “We haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“You’re going to discorporate me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. But I _am_ going to take you apart.”

Before Crowley could reply, Aziraphale opened his mouth and took Crowley's cock into it, closing his lips around the shaft and sucking hard.

“Angel!” Crowley shouted, and his hips jerked involuntarily. 

Aziraphale would have smiled, had he been able, but instead, he focused his energy on establishing a rhythm, moving his mouth back and forth on Crowley’s cock, sucking with every upstroke and circling his clever tongue around the head. He didn’t take him terribly deep just yet, wanting to amp things up slowly, so he used his hand to stroke the parts of Crowley’s cock his mouth wasn’t covering. 

“Satan, angel, your mouth feels so good… so hot and wet…”

Aziraphale sped up a little, sucking a bit harder, moaning in pleasure around the gorgeous cock in his mouth. The vibrations of his mouth made Crowley gasp, as he’d known they would, and he did it again.

Crowley brought first one hand up to Aziraphale’s head, then the other, and Aziraphale took that as a signal that Crowley was ready for a bit more. With his spare hand, he reached up and fondled Crowley’s bollocks, playing with them in the way he knew the demon liked. 

He was rewarded when Crowley threaded his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair, getting a loose grip. It wouldn’t stay loose long, he knew, but for now, it was perfect. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Crowley praised, his voice ragged and breathy. “Look at you, on your knees, your pretty mouth stretched around my cock. You love it, don’t you? You were looking for an excuse to suck me off tonight, weren’t you?”

Aziraphale admitted nothing, although his husband’s words were true enough. His mouth was otherwise engaged at the moment, and much more pleasantly so, sucking Crowey’s cock. He did open his mouth wider, though, taking him a little deeper. Crowley’s hands in his hair tightened just a bit. 

“Fuck,” he swore. “you’re so hot, so fucking hot. I want you so badly.”

Aziraphale removed his hands from Crowley's cock and bollocks and sent them to his hips, guiding him into thrusting lightly. Crowley obeyed, but Aziraphale didn’t release his hips, setting the pace. 

“So you’re in that kind of mood, huh?” Crowley wondered aloud. “You want me to fuck your mouth? Well, I can do that.”

Aziraphale hummed assent, taking Crowley even deeper, so the head of his cock was nudging the back of his throat. Thank God he didn’t have to worry about anything so stupid as a gag reflex. 

“Yes, that’s it. Just like that. Your mouth is so good, angel. Fuck!”

Crowley was thrusting well now, not quite as hard and fast as Aziraphale wanted, but he knew he’d get there. So he removed one of his hands from Crowley’s hip and brought it down to stroke his perineum with the tips of his fingers. 

“Fuck!”

Crowley’s thrusts sped up, the hands in his hair getting a little tighter, and Aziraphale opened his throat to take him deeper. The sounds he was making were utterly obscene, but he didn’t care. The bigger mess he made of Crowley, the better. 

With a quick miracle, he lubed his fingers and slid them back until they were between Crowley’s cheeks, circling his rim. Crowley made broken, incoherent noises above him, thrusting harder now, fucking Aziraphale’s throat in earnest, and let out a cry when one of Aziraphale’s fingers breached him. 

“Yes! Oh, fuck!”

Aziraphale pumped his slick finger in and out of Crowley’s tight hole, deftly avoiding his prostate for the moment, while Crowley held his head still by the hair and fucked his mouth with abandon. Had he been a human, this treatment would have been far too rough, but as it was, it was just _perfect_. Crowley’s control was hanging by a thread, he could tell, and he very much wanted to push him into release. 

He withdrew his finger from Crowley’s hole, then slowly and gently added a second one. Crowley moaned and swore above him, his fists in Aziraphale’s hair now tight enough to be painful, his thrusts growing erratic. Aziraphale scissored his fingers gently, spreading him open, preparing him for what he wanted to do in just a couple of minutes. He slid his fingers in and out over and over, fucking him on them, sucking as best he could, reveling in Crowley’s broken moans and incomplete phrases. 

“Angel… fuck… more… right there… gonna come… fuck! So close…”

Aziraphale hooked his fingers, finding Crowley’s prostate and applying pressure to it, and Crowley screamed, doubling over and coming directly into Aziraphale’s waiting throat. Aziraphale swallowed every drop, milking him for every little bit he could get, still stroking Crowley’s prostate gently. Crowley keened and moaned and swore, but soon, he pulled away, too sensitive to continue. 

He licked Crowley’s still-hard cock clean, then used his hands on his hips to guide him. “Turn around and bend over.”

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley swore, but obeyed. 

Aziraphale stroked his hands on the globes of Crowley’s bum. “Would you like me to eat you out, dear?”

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” he swore again. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, love,” Aziraphale chided. 

“Yes, fuck, please, _please_ eat my arse, please angel…”

“Shh, now. I’ll take care of you,” Aziraphale said with a little caress to his arse. “You just stay bent over for me, like the good demon you are. Can you do that?”

“Yes, yes, anything.”

Aziraphale didn’t make him wait any longer. He used his hands to spread him open, and took a moment just to stare at the feast presented to him. Crowley’s skin was pink, slightly loosened from his fingers, and absolutely gorgeous. Aziraphale couldn't wait another second, so he leaned forward to apply his tongue, giving it a long lick with the flat of his tongue from his perineum to the top of his crack, moaning in pleasure at the clean, musky taste. 

Crowley groaned loudly, and Aziraphale heard a thumping sound that he thought may have been a fist coming down on a table. He didn’t pay it any mind, though, he just went back to licking and sucking Crowley’s arse, moaning with delight, clutching the globes of his arse in a tight grip. 

“Aziraphale, angel, _fuck!_ ”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, he just kept eating Crowley’s arse - _devouring_ him - making obscene sounds and an even more obscene mess. His face was wet with saliva and it dripped from Crowley’s arse onto his shirt, but he didn’t care. A quick miracle when they were done would take care of that. All that mattered now were the sounds that Crowley was making - needy, high-pitched whines and random expletives. Good. That was exactly what he wanted.

Slowly, gently, he eased his tongue into Crowley’s hole, loving the ragged cry that tore from the demon. Once he had his tongue in as far as it would go, he started moving it, seeking out Crowley’s prostate again. He knew he found it when Crowley’s hips jerked. 

“Angel! Fuck! Your tongue!”

He fucked Crowley on his tongue for a few minutes, mimicking the act he’d be performing with his cock in a short time, preparing Crowley for what he wanted. Crowley was a symphony of sounds - groans, ragged breaths, and disjointed phrases - all of which told Aziraphale just how unglued Crowley was becoming. 

But his own need was starting to ride him hard, his prick diamond hard and leaking steadily, forming a wet spot in his trousers. He needed to be inside Crowley and soon. He didn’t think he could wait much longer. 

When Crowley’s sounds reached a point that indicated he was growing close to orgasm again, Aziraphale withdrew his tongue and applied one more sucking kiss to Crowley’s hole, then he clambered to his feet, his hands tearing at his belt and button. 

Crowley nearly sobbed. “Angel, please, _please_ …”

“What do you want, dear?” Aziraphale asked in a voice that sounded much steadier than he felt, while he shoved down his trousers and fisted his cock. 

“Please fuck me. Please. I’ll do anything, angel, just please…”

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, even as he miracled some lube into his hand and slicked his cock with it.

“Yes, yes,” Crowley sobbed. 

Aziraphale positioned the tip of his cock at Crowley’s hole and paused there. “Are you ready? Or do you need -”

He didn’t get to finish before he felt Crowley’s arsehole shift a bit under the tip of his cock, a miracle loosening him and lubing him, and he smiled to himself. 

“Please, please, angel...”

Aziraphale pushed in slowly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on his shoulders as he sank into Crowley’s welcoming heat. Crowley was tight, hot, and slick, and nothing ever felt as good as this, it was like coming home. 

Crowley groaned again and Aziraphale idly stroked his hip with one hand. “That’s it, love, you’re so good, so good for me. And you take my cock so well.”

He pushed father and farther until his hips were pressed up against Crowley’s arse and he could go no further. Denying his own instinct to start thrusting, he took a moment to check on Crowley. 

“Are you alright, dear?”

“I’ve never been better,” Crowley answered in a strained voice. “Please, angel, more. Give me more.”

“How do you want me to fuck you today, dearest?”

“God, fuck, just… fuck me hard and fast. _Take_ me, angel.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” Aziraphale replied, then withdrew slowly. He plunged back in right away, making Crowley whimper, then did it again, and again, and again, picking up speed and force with every thrust, while Crowley swore and cursed and begged. 

“Is that good for you?” Aziraphale asked once he’d set a steady pace. 

“Yes, yes, _fuck_ , give it to me harder.”

Aziraphale gripped his hips and intensified his thrusts. “Look at you, Crowley. Bent over a desk in a cramped office being fucked into oblivion and begging for more. You can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”

“Never,” Crowey panted, clinging to the other side of the desk with both hands. “I can never get enough of you.”

“Well that's good to hear, because I can never get enough of giving it to you. I don't think there’s anything in this world I love more than fucking you, did you know?” 

“Yes, yes,” Crowley babbled, although Aziraphale rather thought it unlikely that Crowley was actually answering him. He sped up. 

“Your arse feels so good around my cock, Crowley. So hot and tight. I could fuck you for hours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“More, angel, please...”

The pressure was building at the base of his spine, his balls tightening, and he knew he was close. But he didn’t want to go over without Crowley. 

“Are you close, my love? Can you come for me again?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll come for you,” Crowley cried. 

Aziraphale released his hips and pulled him upright, so his back was pressed against Aziraphale’s front, fucking him all the while. He wrapped his arms around Crowley to hold him still for the fucking and laid his head down on the demon’s shoulder. Crowley reached behind himself to thread his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair with one hand and clutch his hip with the other. Distractedly, Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the side of Crowley’s head and sent his hand down to grip his cock. 

“Yes, angel, yes, _fuck_. Your cock is so good, I’m so full...”

Aziraphale started pumping his cock at the same pace he was fucking his arse, holding his own release in check, murmuring sweet nothings into Crowley’s ear.

“That’s it, Crowley. That’s it, my love. Oh, fucking you is wonderful. Let go and come for me. Come for me, then I’ll fill your arse with my spend. Come, Crowley.”

Crowley released with a strangled cry, his come erupting all over his abdomen and Aziraphale’s hand, his entire body spasming, his arsehole clenching tight around Aziraphale’s cock. Aziraphale gritted his teeth and stroked him through the orgasm, fighting his own, trying desperately to prolong Crowley’s pleasure. 

When Crowley stopped coming, Aziraphale released his cock and grabbed his hip again, still holding him tight against his body. He fucked him wildly, breathing heavily into his shoulder, chasing his own release. One thrust, two, then he came on the third, biting Crowley’s shoulder to muffle his cry as pleasure raced through him, lighting his nerves on fire. 

He came back down from his high, floating like a feather in the breeze, coming into his senses one by one. He was still clutching Crowley tightly, still buried inside him, still tingling from his orgasm. He kept his eyes closed while he gathered his breath and his senses, basking in the afterglow. 

Once he had some semblance of control over himself, he started pressing kisses to the side of Crowley’s head. Crowley craned his neck backwards, until their mouths were able to meet, and they engaged in a deep, slow, languid kiss. 

“I love you,” Crowley said when the kiss broke. 

“I love you, too.”

Aziraphale gave him one more kiss, then reluctantly released his arms from around Crowley’s body, withdrawing his still-hard cock from Crowley’s arse. They were quiet as they put themselves back together, employing a handful of minor miracles to clean up their mess and right their clothes and hair. The mess on his hand, though, Aziraphale didn’t use a miracle for. With his eyes locked on Crowley’s, he licked the demon’s spend from his fingers. 

“You keep that up and we’ll spend the entirety of this wedding reception in this dingy office.”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled as he sucked the last bit of come from his finger, then miracled it dry. “I can’t help it, Crowley. I’m so _ravenous_ for you, all the time.”

“Fucking minx,” Crowley complained, smoothing the wrinkles from his jacket. “How do I look?”

“Thoroughly fucked. How do I look?”

“Like you’re going to get the fucking of a lifetime when I get you back to the hotel,” Crowley growled, stepping forward, sliding his hands up under Aziraphale’s jacket and looping his fingers through his belt loops. “Is your jealousy abated now?”

“A bit. Are you going to go back out there and chat up gorgeous people?”

Crowley smirked. “If it leads to another event like this, I’ll chat up every single person at this wedding.”

Aziraphale recognized the teasing and smiled. ”So long as they know you’re mine.”

“I am, angel. Body and soul.”

Aziraphale kissed him lightly. “Good. Then let’s go back out there and be social for a little while. Then you can take me back to the hotel and fuck me senseless.”

Crowley grinned and slid his sunglasses back on. “Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale's suit:  
> 
> 
> Crowley's suit:  
> 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! And HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUR! I love you!!


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